


But The Spectre Suspects

by jay_be



Series: Sleepless in St. Tropez [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, i have literally no idea how lesbians work, this is gonna be a trip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-30 22:30:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6444592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jay_be/pseuds/jay_be
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One evening, Kanaya pays Rose a visit, and things get wild. How wild? How will this situation resolve itself? With fingering, is what.</p>
            </blockquote>





	But The Spectre Suspects

**Author's Note:**

  * For [redboard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/redboard/gifts), [brinnsprite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brinnsprite/gifts).



> Who knew people would read trash?
> 
> I did.
> 
> You're trash.

Once upon a December evening, the lovely and beautiful Kanaya Maryam was walking down the lovely and beautiful street, on her way to the apartment of the lovely and beautiful Rose Lalonde, her lovely and beautiful girlfriend, so they could have some nasty, hair-ripping, skin-scraping sex.

Kanaya, you see, was that rarest of creatures: a troll.

Also a lesbian, but the troll thing is what's important to pay attention to here. It'll come back in the story later.

Once Kanaya climbed the human stairs to her human girlfriend's human apartment, she knocked on the human door.

"I'm coming!" Rose screamed from behind the locked door, in a voice that was oddly suspect for someone who was just answering a door. But Kanaya waited.

Rose didn't open the door, though, so Kanaya, being a type of creature that lacked the understanding that you don't just fucking walk into someone's house without being invited like a goddamn Jehovah's Witness, walked right on in. She quickly noticed that Rose's clothes were distributed all over the room, in a manner that suggested that Rose had not merely been into the good meth again. Kanaya rounded a corner, and saw her worst nightmare come to life: Rose being fucked by Swedish supermodel Cara Delevingne.

Her mouth dropped open. Swedish supermodel Cara Delevingne was ramming into Rose's precious pearl clam with all the force of a thousand splendid suns, and Kanaya felt like running out and buying a kite for no specific reason that isn't at all related to noted author Khaled Hosseini.

"Oh, Swedish supermodel Cara Delevingne!" cried Rose, as her juicy fruit was plundered over and over, "How do you do what you do?"

Swedish supermodel Cara Delevingne raised her eyebrows, and Rose came all over the couch like it was already Arbor Day. Little did anyone know, but the vaunted and incredibly sexual eyebrows of Swedish supermodel Cara Delevingne were a gift from Ellen DeGeneres, otherwise known as the Earthly incarnation of God.

"Rose! Oh my fucking gog!" said Kanaya, which was a perfectly legitimate thing to say, and not at all a one-off statement that went way too far, because the Homestuck fandom has never taken anything past the point of too-far-ness. "How could you cheat on me with Swedish supermodel Cara Delevingne? I thought we had something special!"

Just then, Rose leapt across the room like a goddamn brown leaping spider and latched her majestic labia onto Kanaya's mouth like a goddamn brown labia spider. "This is the surprise I was telling you about," said Rose, "you know, the one about how I was going to wheel Swedish supermodel Cara Delevingne, and then bring her back home, and then fuck her, and then fuck you, and then fuck her and you at the same time, since it is our anniversary, and you have always loved Swedish supermodel Cara Delevingne?"

Kanaya, meanwhile, was choking on Rose's meaty protrusions. Did you think I was kidding when I said I have no idea what lesbians is? I have lots of fancy and horrifying synonyms, some vague memories from Grade 6, and a disturbing lack of shame. This is gonna be a fucking trip.

"Oh my God," said Rose, "you can't breathe!" So she did a crazy fucking backflip that you really had to be there to see, and fucking launched Kanaya across the room into the waiting vagina of Swedish supermodel Cara Delevingne.

Inside the waiting vagina of Swedish supermodel Cara Delevingne, Kanaya noticed that there was a mysterious ticking noise. Reaching further into the murky depths, she pulled out what was not a time bomb, but, in fact, a land mine. "Jesus fucking Christ," called Kanaya, as she withdrew from the surprisingly homey interior of Swedish supermodel Cara Delevingne's hallway of desire, "there's a goddamn land mine in there!"

"Do you know what this means?" said Rose, wrapping herself languidly around Kanaya and fingering her mercilessly.

Kanaya screamed, and came like a bull elephant.

"Exactly," murmured Rose. "We're gonna eat the land mine outta that pussy."

 

***

 

Two hours later, Kanaya stood with Rose over the insensate body of Swedish supermodel Cara Delevingne. She was gorgeous in her morphine-induced stupor, Kanaya thought, but what was required next would take great care and effort.

"Are you completely, one hundred percent sure, that she needed to be unconscious for this?" asked Kanaya, looking back at Rose.

"Kanaya, honey," sang Rose, rocking back and forth on the mechanical phallus, "Sweetums. Baby. Darling. Gorgey. Lovey. Dearest. Don't fucking question my decisions." Rose gestured grandly in the direction of the gaping maw of Swedish supermodel Cara Delevingne. "If she were awake for the procedure, the bomb would go off, and we don't want that. We haven't even gotten to the threesome yet."

Kanaya paused. "I was under the impression that it was a land mine."

Groaning, Rose grabbed Kanaya's horns and motioned for her to commence the ritual clitoris chewing. "If you would simply trust me, poppy dearest," she sang out between intense shrieks of pain, "then we'd already be done with this."

See, you thought I wouldn't know anything. But I know some things. I cannot tell you where the clitoris is, what it's for, or what it looks like, but I know you don't bite that shit. Not unless you want to be tried in the Lesbian Hague. Which, of course, is held every two years from the tailgate of a beaten up Ford '87 as Deb and Sharon pass around the whiskey sours.

"I don't even like Sharon," Kanaya muttered, switching to laving at the labia minora. She'd always been intimidated by the labia majora, after it graduated valedictorian to her salutatorian from Etheridge Heights Preparatory for Lesbians in '08.

Rose suddenly threw Kanaya away from her quivering meat jowls. "We need to do this now," she commanded, spreading her slippery genitals wide. "I shall now perform the Forbidden Minge Magics, shrinking you down to size and allowing you to safely enter the dangerous cooch of Swedish supermodel Cara Delevingne." Quick as a bunny, she threw her folds towards Kanaya, who began to shrink and also float into the dangerous cooch of Swedish supermodel Cara Delevingne.

"I didn't know we could do that," muttered Kanaya, as put out as she was being put into the dangerous cooch of Swedish supermodel Cara Delevingne. "I need to find the Sappho Sage and take some remedial classes. Perhaps she's still teaching at Etheridge Prep."

"Stop fucking talking to yourself, you goddamn prep," Rose screamed into the dangerous cooch of Swedish supermodel Cara Delevingne. "That bomb's going to go off soon, if you don't hotfoot it up to the Fallopian tubes to get it!"

Kanaya pouted, which was the most reasonable reaction in this incredibly plausible set of circumstances. "There's no need to be rude," she grumbled.

Rose, back outside and still very large, groaned like she was being forced to listen to Ben Affleck talk. "Just for that, you little string lesbian bean," she snarled, "I am going to vigorously fuck the dangerous cooch of Swedish supermodel Cara Delevingne while you take your goddamn time."

"I'm pretty sure that's illegal just about everywhere," Kanaya pointed out.

"Shit, bitch!" said Rose. "You're right!"

 

***

 

Three hours later, Kanaya wasn't sure she was going in the right direction. She was pretty sure she'd taken a wrong turn at the uterus and ended up heading in the general direction of the bladder. No, you don't need to ask yourself how a landmine would be in the Fallopian tubes when it had previously been established to be within grabbing distance of the hand in the vagina area.

Vaginas, I firmly believe to be true, are like biological black holes. Everything is sucked further and further into them until it is forcibly divested every month under the sway of the full moon, which is a dark and dangerous mistress that really fucking hates anyone with a vagoo, particularly those who listen to Mother Mother. Yeah, you know you're who I'm talking about. Maybe pick up a goddamn phone sometime, you fucking ungulate.

Kanaya, as deep as it was possible to be in the dangerous cooch of Swedish supermodel Cara Delevingne, was beginning to lose hope. Everything looked the same, all fleshy and throbbing. And not the good kind of throbbing, like vaginas are well-known to do. The bad kind, like vaginas are not well-known to do. Which is totally legitimate a comparison to make, probably.

"Hey Kanaya!" said somebody from down the closest capillary. Kanaya wheeled around and pulled out her chainsaw, swinging wildly and unintentionally ensuring the future urinary problems of Swedish supermodel Cara Delevingne. "That's fucking disgusting," said the somebody, who Kanaya managed to actually finally use her gay-ass eyes to look at, and the somebody ran their hand up the torn urethra of Swedish supermodel Cara Delevingne, mending it using the powers of healing which were inherent to Vriska.

Oh yeah it was Vriska fucking spoilers.

"Oh my Portia!" screamed Kanaya. "I did not at all recognize you, for you did not use your customary eight exclamation points when you initially addressed me!"

Vriska rolled her eyes. Eye. She rolled the one, and then she chortled, which is a disgusting word even in the context of this story of the worst kind of vaginal exploration. "I was being purposefully oblique!!!!!!!!" she hissed. "It's part of my goddamn mystique!!!!!!!!"

"If that's what you want to call it," Kanaya muttered.

"Okay, bitch, is that how you want to play it????????" Vriska squealed like a marmoset in heat. "Just for that, I'm going to race you to the land mine, extract it first, and have all the flappy, slappy, wet and wild sex with Rose instead of you!!!!!!!!"

"You goddamn bitch!" screamed Kanaya.

"Come and get me, _Sharon_!!!!!!!!" snarled Vriska as she ran further into the uterus.

"I don't even _like_ Sharon!" Kanaya wailed, in hot, sexy pursuit.

 

***

 

Four hours later, Kanaya woke up to the sounds of Rose vigourously plundering her own sweet meat cave with an oversized leg of lamb.

"What happened?" she groaned, noticing both that she was large again and that the entire bottom half of Swedish supermodel Cara Delevingne had been gorily blown to pieces.

Rose briefly stopped pleasuring herself with what was  _supposed_ to be dinner, Rose, we talked about this, to gesture vaguely towards the meaty bloodpile that had at one point been Swedish supermodel Cara Delevingne's waist and legs.

"The mine went off, if I had to hazard a guess."

"You weren't  _watching_?" Kanaya whined.

Rose rolled her eyes sexily. "Look, baby. Sweetie pie. Honey bunch. Sugar tits. Look." She pointed down at the leg of lamb she was still vigorously ramming into her personal meat thresher. "This meat isn't going to thresh itself. Somebody has to inundate it with vaginal outpourings, and it's not going to be you, clearly."

"Some of us are just naturally dry," whispered Kanaya, mortified that Rose would stoop to such lows as to point out that she was incapable of forming her own lubrication in her troll vagina. Yes, that is the entire payoff for that setup ages ago. Aren't you glad you kept that tidbit of information in your head. It wasn't a waste at all.

Just then, the horrifyingly chunky corpse of Swedish supermodel Cara Delevingne twitched.

"What could that be?" whispered Rose, pulling herself off the the lamb leg with a wet _shlorck_.

Together, the two of them crowded over the torn up insides of Swedish supermodel Cara Delevingne, and watched in shock, awe, and a dawning sexual second wind as Swedish supermodel Cara Delevinge, previously thought dead, raised her God-given eyebrows.

Like some sort of fucked up Disney Princess transformation, all the bits of Swedish supermodel Cara Delevingne that had previously been scattered across the floor, walls, and Kanaya's entire body, rose up and reattached themselves to the no longer dead body of Swedish supermodel Cara Delevingne, who beamed magnanimously down at her charges.

"Let us fuck," said Swedish supermodel Cara Delevingne.

And fuck they did.

 

***

 

Vriska went home because she was bored. The end.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Fucking Birthday, Monica.


End file.
